Striking
by peepeeface
Summary: He was relentless in his furious attack; wordless rage. There was no pause. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for it end. When she thought she could not handle the pain any longer, he sneered and left triumphantly.


DISCLAIMER: Nothing but the plot line is mine.

**Chapter One:**

Hermione didn't know where it had gone wrong, very, very wrong. All she knew was that she was suffering, and she knew that Ron Weasley was the cause of her pain; both physically and emotionally. Again and again he had struck her. The pain kept mounting, as he left no time for her to recover between his attacks. She did not dare to cry out or to show pain, as she had learned the hard way. Her eyes were emotionless, showing no weakness, no pain... He struck; again and again. He was relentless in his furious attack; wordless rage. There was no pause. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for it end. When she thought she could not handle the pain any longer, he sneered and left triumphantly.

Finally, he was gone. She could not express her relief in any way, for everything held a risk. Hermione let out a single tear as she slumped back onto the kitchen wall. She struggled not to cry out loud. She needed an escape from this nightmare. Every night, as nursed her cuts and bruises, she tried to tell herself that it was a dream; she would wake up and Ron would smile at her, press his lips against her cheek, grab her hand in a loving hold; he would love her again. How hard she tried to believe it to be true, yet... It was reality. This was the harsh reality. He would always come home from what he called his "work," then strike her.

Hermione whimpered. It was more the emotional pain than the physical pain that cut inside her. Another tear slid down, then another. Slowly Hermione curled into a fetal position, drawing into her own instinctive, protective shell. This was their routine. She was scared to tell anyone in fear of what he would do to her. Hermione hated herself for her weakness. What happened to the brave Gryffindor Lioness?

She hoped he would love her again, just as she still loved him.

* * *

><p>Ginny Weasley had noticed that Hermione wasn't her usual strong self. She had become a recluse, indifferent, drawn into herself, and silent. Gone were her once bright eyes. To any other outsider, nothing would have seemed wrong, but to Ginny, her best friend seemed too stressed, too tense. She looked borderline sickly. Today, Ginny Weasley decided, she was going to find out the truth.<p>

* * *

><p>Something was wrong. As she briskly walked down the hallway, nodding to her fellow co-workers, hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and Hermione could not brush off the feeling that someone was watching her. Sure, she had been used to the feeling as one of the once-Golden trio, but in her current state, she could not begin to wonder why someone would have been watching her.<p>

Lost in her thoughts, she did not hear footsteps stop behind her back, and a tentative arm reached out to tap her on the shoulder. Hermione flinched, and fumbled for her wand. As a curse bubbled to her lips, a familiar voice rang out, "Hermione! It's just me, Ginny!" Hermione placed her wand in her robe, as she sighed and slowly turned around to face her long-time friend.

"Hey."

Ginny had finally cornered Hermione. While Ginny followed her down the hallway, she couldn't help but notice the faint limp in her steps. They entered the office, Hermione leading, and Ginny following suit. Hermione strode to her desk, and sat in her chair, almost collapsing. Ginny watched warily, instinctively knowing that one wrong move could, and would, scare her away. _Almost like a frightened _animal, she mused. Hermione gestured to the chair in front of her desk, wordlessly telling Ginny to sit. Ginny took a glance out the open door, and locked it. Silencing charms were placed around the room. She marched to the gestured chair, and sat.

After ten minutes, Hermione still hadn't spoken, and Ginny was starting to feel impatient. Hermione was taking her time "sharpening" her _pen._ Hermione didn't want to speak, that much was certain. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to be best friends. Best friends would confide in each other _all_ of their tiny secrets, however minor, or major, they were. Ginny could tell that this secret was one that she had been keeping for a long time; Hermione's hands shook as Ginny's gaze grew stronger, and upon further close inspection, faint traces of bruises were seen on Hermione's arms, hastily covered by an illusion charm.

So this was how Harry felt when Dumbledore had studied him with his electrifying eyes, Hermione pondered. It was thoroughly uncomfortable. Hermione tried to calm herself down and concentrated on her hands. To her horror, they were shaking. Her body was giving out hints, little by little, but Hermione still didn't want anyone to know.

Hermione was afraid. Without looking up, she felt Ginny stand up, leaning over Hermione's work desk. With a bout of Weasley anger, Ginny slammed her hands on Hermione's desk. Hermione looked up, startled by Ginny's sudden action. "We need to talk." Hermione submitted to her demand weakly, having no more spirit in her.

* * *

><p>"… And so it has been like that for a very long time," Hermione finished. She glanced at the clock on the café wall. They had driven to their favorite café where they had once giggled with each other, sneaking glances at guys that caught their fancy. It was different today.<p>

The car ride to the café was silent, Ginny occasionally glancing at Hermione, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel, eyes staring straight ahead. More than once Ginny had tried to strike up conversation with the sullen young woman, but the more she tried, the more tension radiated from Hermione's being. Ginny had reached to turn on the radio, but was forced to turn it off again. The radio had sounded too empowering in a too-silent car.

Right now, it was all Ginny could do to stop herself from finding Ron and using an uncountable number of jinxes on her brother, who had once sworn to protect Hermione and love her with every power and in any way he could. Ginny growled loudly, and Hermione, recognizing the bloodlust in her eyes, much like her brother's, begged her to stay. She looked around wildly, her eyes like a doe caught in the headlights of a car.

"No! Please listen," Hermione half whispered, half cried. "Don't do anything. I'm scared of what he'll do to me after he realizes I've told someone."

Ginny looked murderous. "Scared? You, Hermione Granger, scared? The Hermione that helped my ex-boyfriend Harry Potter save the world? Scared? You must be kidding me. You disgust me," Ginny admonished.

"No, you just don't understand. Do you know that every night, after all the neighbors are sleeping peacefully, he strikes me? Again and again, and I can't even call out for help. No one would hear me, even if I scream out of pain. The one and only time I screamed, he brandished his wand out, and threatened to hurt me with not only his fists, but his magic as well." She lifted her shirt slightly to show Ginny a scar. "This is what resulted." Ginny studied the scar. It apparently was a deep cut, and was healed very messily.

Ginny sighed in defeat, slightly mollified. She didn't want her friend to be hurt even more, though she still bristled with anger. "Fine. I won't yell at him. But I will and I shall tell other people."

"If you mean Potter, Ron will still hear. Haven't you realized that Potter has been acting a lot like Ron lately? He's been under the Imperius curse." With that sentence, Hermione left. Ginny was left alone, muttering to herself about who she could tell out of all the people in the world.

The next morning, Lauren, the secretary, burst into Hermione's office looking flushed and disheveled. "Miss Weasley," she said breathlessly, "There's an extremely sexy blonde looking for you in the lobby downstairs. Hermione glanced up at the Muggle. "Tell him that I'm not going to come down. I have a lot of work to do." Lauren giggled and said, "Wow, he really does know you. He said he was a friend at school." Hermione sighed, wanting to get her work done. "Tell him I'm not coming.."

Lauren sighed. _Hermione didn't know what she was missing out on,_ she thought. There were a few minutes of silence before Lauren burst in again.

"He said that he's not leaving until he sees you." Seeing Hermione's face, she said, "All the female workers are trying to cozy up to him, you know. Mind you, trying's the key word." Here, Lauren winked. "You're not going to get any peace, seeing that the lobby's ventilation system hooks up to your office. Don't you remember those times you have told me about hearing me speak to overly rude guests? You can hear every word!"

Hermione sighed. "Bring him up please." Lauren giggled and stated that he won't move until you come. She also told Hermione to "tidy herself up," because "he's a real nice catch."

Hermione groaned, and threw her favorite pen onto her desk, along with the paperwork she was currently assigned to. She growled, and went to the mirror on her wall. As she left her office, she called out, "Lauren? What's his name?"

"He called himself Malfoy or something. Strange surname, maybe he's foreign. Is there a problem?"

Hermione had asked that question, for she had not believed her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was seeing either. There was Malfoy, running his hand through his sleek hair, slightly leaning on some entranced female employee's desk, while glaring at the hordes of female beings, keeping them at bay. He spotted Hermione and sneered. The girls left hesitantly, as they noticed his disinterest. He sauntered over to Hermione, his smirk disappearing as he walked closer, his strut turning into dull plods.

"The Weaslette was right. She wasn't lying." He hesitantly and slowly reached for her face, pausing when she flinched when his hand drew near to her face.

His voice was harsh as he surveyed her. "What—"He was cut short as she interrupted him.

"If you're going to cause a scene, Malfoy, do it in my office."

She showed him to her office upstairs. Her manner had changed into one of defeated person without a reason with every step she took farther away from the other workers; nothing Draco Malfoy had ever seen was this heart breaking nor this pitiful. He was surveying her, she knew it. And she didn't like it. It reminded her of the first day when Ron had started to... She couldn't bring herself to say the word.

_Abuse. That's what it was. When he had started to abuse her._

Hermione had whispered the word aloud; barely audible, too low for Malfoy to hear unless he strained.

Draco Malfoy heard it.

He, like Ginny, waited for more information. He, _unlike_ Ginny, had little patience. Malfoy walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. Hermione seemed to shrink more, if that was possible. Her hands gripped tightly to her robes wrapped loosely around her. He sighed, not wanting to frighten her, and sat down next to her on the floor. He occasionally looked at her, wracking his brain for ways, any ways, to soothe her.

"Granger," he murmured, hesitantly caressing her back.

A mumble was drifting towards Draco. "Since when have you called me in such a familiar tone? Wasn't I always just a Mudblood to you? And since when have you cared for me?"

Wincing at the harsh word, Malfoy inwardly slapped himself for being so straightforward. He grimaced, and replied, "Don't you realize that I don't like what's happening to you? At school, you were always so confident, so brave. You would stick up for your friends, and help the meek." At this point, he coughed, and something that sounded like "Neville Longbottom" was heard.

Draco continued, "You never realized this, but I, too, wanted to be your friend. I had never seen someone that loyal to their companions. You were so smart, and sadly, the only person who could speak to me as if you weren't afraid." Here, he paused, to see the effects of his words on her.

His talk was not working.

Draco Malfoy left the room.

* * *

><p>Later that evening, a telemarketer called the Weasley household. Hermione's once proud voice came back as she answered the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?"<p>

"Good evening madam, may I please speak to the person named Hermione Weasley?"

"Yes, this is her…"

"I am pleased to state that you have been selected randomly to a vacation back to the Wizarding World. All expenses have been paid by a company who would not like to state their name. Also, we have randomly selected another person; you will meet him on the way."

"Well… I don't know if… I don't think I'll make it… Well, this is not my… I'm going to miss work," she finished lamely.

"Miss, we will not take no for an answer. We WILL pick you up in three days; there will be no need to pack up or inform anyone."

The front door of Hermione's house opened, and his familiar footsteps were getting closer.

"I… I have to go."

She slammed down the phone, just as _he_ came into the room.

In a cold voice, he said, "Who were you talking to." It was not a question, rather a demand. Hermione laughed nervously. "It-it was … no one. I-I think it w-was a sales per-person."

_He_laughed mirthlessly. "Do I look like a stupid freaking DOLT to you? Is that what I am? I KNOW who was on the phone. Perhaps… _a secret affair?_ Or maybe you told that someone what I have been doing? Granger. Granger, Granger, Granger. You won't fool me, you know. And if you did tell someone, I will kill that person along with you when the time comes."

Hermione braced herself as he walked closer and closer to her. She turned her face slightly away from him, on instinct. Ron roared with rage as she turned her face. "So now you look at me with disgust? You can't even look at me! Well, you deserve all those punishments I gave you. It seems as if you need MORE."

Hermione was scared. She didn't want to know what would happen to her, and she didn't want to take any more chances.

Hermione slapped Ron. She slapped him and ran for the door. As he got over the shock of her acting back after long months, he thundered after her. Hermione ran like a frightened rabbit escaping from its hunter. She glanced wildly around her for a place where she could take refugee. She remembered her earlier visitor. Surely he would want to help her. He did tell her not to keep silent about her problem. _It was his fault. _In her fright, she forgot about being a witch, she was merely a human running for her life.

She ran, stumbling, nearly tripping. As she ran, and with every step, she felt lighter and lighter, as if the weight on her back was disappearing. Ron's bellows were drawing closer. She ran faster, hoping to get to Malfoy's home as quick as possible. She reached their enormous gate. She pressed against them as a voice seemed to speak into her mind, asking for her name and business. In one breath, she said "Hermione W-Weasley; I need to escape from Ron Weasley."

The gates creaked open almost instantly, and she dashed inside. The gates closed just as Ron reached the gate. He attempted to charge through, but the gate's magical barrier wouldn't let him through. Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She swayed slightly, and she crumpled to the ground as she fell unconscious.

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up feeling refreshed. She felt smooth silk underneath her. The sun was shining on her face; she could hear birds chirping outside. She drifted in and out of consciousness. Somewhere outside her room a plate crashed. Hermione jolted straight up and out of her bed.<p>

"Where's the fire?" She said deliriously.

A gentle knock sounded from outside her room. The door opened. It was Pansy Parkinson, another school "friend." Pansy sniffed. "I don't know why Drakey let someone like you in our house. This house was strictly for purebloods. I don't know why there even was a room for a Muggle-born in the first place."

Hermione repeated her question, not recognizing her location. "Where's the fire?"

Pansy stared. "W-what?"

With that, Hermione back down on the bed and fell asleep.

A few hours later, Hermione woke up in her correct state of mind.

Hermione opened the door. Overwhelming curiosity overpowered her senses. She just had to know what was behind that door… and maybe that one too… how about that green one?

Okay. So she was lost. It's no big deal. This manor _only_ had ten floors, and it _only_ has about 60 rooms on each floor. She would get to her room in about ten minutes...

Ten minutes had passed. She was starting to get annoyed. "What kind of person would have this big a house with practically no one to live in it?" It was then that she reached the ball room. It was vast. It was spacey. It was breath-taking. It was… totally perfect. The charmed piano, sensing someone in the room, started playing soft music; nice and slowly, the music Hermione loved the most.

Hermione closed her eyes. She had an imaginary partner who was taller than she, and in her dream world, they were peacefully and blissfully in love, much as she wished she and Ron were. Meanwhile, a pair of eyes watched her from the door.

The newcomer clapped their hands twice after watching Hermione for a while. The piano stopped playing, and Hermione was violently yanked out of her dream world. She faced the door. It was Draco Malfoy. Hermione flushed and obediently walked over to Draco. His eyes were amused at the sight. "Well, Hermione. Mind explaining what you were doing in the ball room, and not your bedroom?" "Well… It's a long story."

"I think I have enough time."

A half hour later, Hermione, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson were in the Manor's tea room.

"I'm sort of wondering…," Hermione hesitantly asked, "What happened to Weasley?"

Draco and Pansy tensed up. They glanced at each other before Draco replied. "Well, you see Hermione… Our barrier is… electrified, in a way. The first few times, it's just like a spark like the ones you get when static clings. After a while, the shocks intensify. Well… Your husband… He just kept going at it. He kept throwing himself at the barrier. He was screaming and howling. He was furious. He was screaming the same words over and over. He said 'Come here you whore! Come back here so I can kill you!' We wouldn't let him in. I promised Ginny that I would protect her best friend. His body couldn't handle the pain, nor the electricity pouring into his being. When he touched it for the last time, he was dead before he hit the ground. We brought him to Mungo's, and there they proclaimed him dead."

Hermione started to cry.

She didn't understand why. Maybe it was relief. Her worst fear, her nightmare was finally gone. She wailed and thrashed around. Maybe she was releasing those tears that were pent up inside her when she was "punished." Her tears just wouldn't stop. Maybe she was lonely. Her heart throbbed with pain. Maybe… She has still loved him even when he had struck her.

* * *

><p>When Hermione woke up, she was in a bus. She remembered the bed and crying. She looked out the dark window. The streets were busy. A child ran happily with his sister, with their parents laughing and following closely behind. At this sight of a <em>happy<em> family, her tears swam in her eyes.

She looked to a different place quickly, tearing her eyes off anything that would remind her of Weasley. When she realized Draco was sitting next to her, she was slightly comforted. "Malfoy, where are we heading? Why are you with me?"

With a smirk, he simply replied, "We'll see."

* * *

><p>If some old readers recognize this, and think to accuse me of stealing another's work, I'd like to tell you this is mine. My old pen name was Lady Teardrop, and under that was this story. I have removed the story, thinking it to be unacceptable, and rewrote parts that just did not make sense. Mind you, I was 12 when I first started it, and in three years, opinions change a lot.<p>

I have changed the title, and have planned out many things to be changed later on.

I hope you enjoyed this newly revised chapter!


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